House Divided
by astroanna
Summary: A short based on the latest promo for House Divided


"Solved another case…busted Wilson…looks like you're not losing it after all…"

The voice was soft, sultry, and disturbingly familiar. Disturbing because the woman whom it belonged to had been dead for nearly a year. Closing his eyes for a long moment, House counted to ten slowly. When he opened them again, she was still there. Leaning against his piano, she was gazing at him with the ever-present knowing smirk on her face.

"Here I thought only John Edwards could communicate with the dead. When do I get my own show?"

Amber's smile widened.

"Only you can see me. And I'm the only dead person you get to talk to. Sorry about that."

"Oh, well. At least I have interesting company during my psychotic break."

"You're so sure that's what it is? You haven't even done a differential."

House sighed mockingly.

"I'm too tired for a differential. Besides, I fired you from my team, remember?"

"And you were having such a good day."

Silence reigned for several long moments. Finally, Amber spoke again.

"Aren't you curious why I'm here?"

"I'm curious as to why there's no French maid outfit."

"This is a hallucination, not a fantasy," she said, her eyes shining with mischief.

"And it's my head, not Wilson's. You have a point there."

"Wilson's beyond fantasizing about me. He's moved on."

"He hasn't forgotten about you. I don't think he ever will."

"But he has moved on. He may even fall in love again. I want that for him. But that's not why I'm here."

"Do tell."

"I'm here because it's time for you to move on."

"I've been through this with my usual therapist. Wilson has already provided me with the perfect emotional rehab. Screwing with me. He brought the universe back into order."

"He's helped you move on from Kutner. But you still haven't forgiven yourself for something else. Something bigger."

"What would that be?" House said acidly.

"Me." Amber said simply.

"You?"

"You still haven't forgiven yourself for what happened to me. Wilson has. Don't you think it's time you let yourself off the hook?"

"Thank you, figment of my unconscious, I'll try to work on that," House replied.

"Have it your way. But I'm not going anywhere until you face what it is you're not willing to face."

Before House knew what had happened he had fallen asleep. Before long he had awoken again. That night he simply stared at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep again. He was unsure the next day as to whether or not the previous night's events had been a hallucination or a dream.

As he walked into Wilson's office that day Wilson was examining a file. Looking up he could see that something was wrong with House. There was a stiffness to his posture and a confusion in his eyes that Wilson was not used to. He simply waited for House to speak. When he remained silent, however, Wilson leaned back and fixed House with his most penetrating gaze.

"I'm afraid my ability to read minds is on the fritz so you'll have to tell me what's wrong."

"I don't know if anything is wrong, exactly."

"Okay," Wilson said slowly, "then tell me what could be wrong."

"I had-" House began, but before he could finish his sentence there she was again, leaning on Wilson's desk this time. She gazed at House for a long moment, then slowly turned to look at Wilson. Wilson, of course, simply raised his eyebrow at House, waiting for him to continue. He, of course, did not see Amber. A pang of sorrow suddenly stabbed House at the image only he could see. It seemed cruel, somehow, that he should be able to see Amber again, even in a vision, when Wilson was denied it. Taking a deep breath, House simply blurted out the words.

"I'm having hallucinations."

Wilson's eyebrows raised in surprise, and his face slowly fell.

"House, have you been taking something different-"

"No, it's not that," House said firmly, "it's not."

"Then what?" Wilson asked, concerned, "is it a delayed symptom? From the coma?"

House honestly hadn't considered that before. He did so now, however, seriously.

"I don't think so," House said slowly, "not after nearly a year."

Wilson lapsed into silence. As he was hesitating, House broke the silence.

"The important thing is what I'm seeing," House said, looking at Wilson again carefully.

"Why is that important?" Wilson asked.

"Because it's Amber."

"You're seeing Amber?" Wilson asked, his voice dropping to a whisper unconsciously.

House nodded.

Wilson sat back again, watching House's face, the brown eyes steady and cool.

"You're the diagnostician," he finally said carefully, "why do you think you're seeing my dead girlfriend?"

House did not reply, but his eyes dropped to Wilson's desk and he leaned slightly on his cane. It was a gesture Wilson recognized, and it made his heart ache for his best friend.

"You need to let this go," Wilson said quietly, "it took me a long time to realize what happened that day. And to forgive you. But I have."

House shook his head, bewildered.

"You loved her."

"And she died. That happens. It was nothing you did and it doesn't mean you're responsible."

"But I am responsible."

"Why?"

"I was there. I was taking care of her."

"So was I. I'm just as responsible as you are."

"It's like Cuddy said. You weren't a doctor then. You were the family."

"And you were injured. Traumatized. And you still went above and beyond the call of duty."

"Don't give me the speech," House growled, turning to stare out of Wilson's glass door onto the balcony beyond.

"It's not a speech. It's the truth."

"But it doesn't change anything. She's still dead."

"Nothing can change that," Wilson said, his voice near to breaking, "but that doesn't mean things haven't changed."

House turned.

"What do you mean?"

"You've changed over the past year. You've grown. Maybe you don't see it yet, but what happened to Amber has made you better. It's made you consider things you wouldn't have before. Don't you realize that's why we've been able to stay friends?"

House raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Trust me, House," Wilson said, smiling, "things have changed for me, too. If you hadn't made the effort to change after what had happened to her, I would have stayed gone. I wouldn't have forgiven you."

"I…haven't changed," House said obstinately.

Wilson blew out a breath in exasperation.

"Why are you so proud of this image of yourself as unchangeable? You have changed. It's a good thing!"

"I don't want to be like everyone else," House said quietly, speaking more to himself than to Wilson.

"You couldn't be even if you tried. I know you don't want to hear this, but you have a gift. You still have it. How many times do I have to tell you that you won't lose it?"

"That's not what I'm afraid of."

"Then what?"

"I may not like who I am, but at least I know who I am," House said, now staring again at the balcony, "I have no idea who I'll be if I change."

"Why are you worried about that?" Wilson said mildly, "that's what I'm here for."

House slowly turned to look at Wilson, blue eyes meeting warm brown.

"It doesn't matter how much you change," Wilson continued, "I'll always know who you are. And if you aren't sure, I'll help you figure it out."

House nodded, and swept out of the office without another word.

That night House climbed into bed, exhausted. He fell into a deep and peaceful sleep, with only a single vivid image to break the restful slumber.

It was Amber saying good-bye.


End file.
